Davis' Style May Work If Magic Give It A Chance

Johnny Davis registers as swell across the board. He dresses swell, coaches swell, speaks swell, drives a swell car, presumably drives swell, has a swell home and lives an all-around swell life.

Swell.

Most people operate way to the left or right of swell, but Davis stays right there, in the heart of swell. It's sort of cool, sort of not, but definitely neat. In a league of self-promoters and characters you could not create, Davis presents himself as a person, but he often leaves behind the "ality."

"It's not about me," Davis said.

If you trust their word, this is the coach -- a selfless, unknown type -- the Orlando Magic have anointed to rebuild them. If you trust their word, Davis finally will get a chance, a real chance, to coach an NBA team, and everyone can learn something about his coaching ability.

If you trust their word.

In a season of rampant uncertainty, the Magic claim, with certainty, that Davis is their guy. They want you to buy into his substance over others' charisma, even as this season trudges into unfathomable pointlessness.

The Magic lost the ugliest of games to Philadelphia on Monday night. It was an 87-82 beast, and many fans reacted accordingly, rushing out of TD Waterhouse Centre with five minutes remaining in a game still in doubt.

It was not a swell scene, just another indicator that Davis' task is greater than to deliver the Magic more victories. The Magic's expectation: Deliver us from upheaval.

"There are no instant cures," Davis said. "It's a process."

You don't know whether Davis can do this. You don't know whether he can't, either.

"I'm not just trying to survive this job," Davis said. "I want to do the job."

It's his job, the Magic say.

But do they really mean it?

Do they believe in Davis like they believed in Tracy McGrady's potential?

Or do they believe in Davis like they believed in Jeryl Sasser's potential?

John Weisbrod, the chief operating officer, keeps saying Davis will be back. We'll see. Too much can happen between now and next season.

Big-name coaches could become available. If General Manager John Gabriel does not survive, the Magic could pursue a new GM and give him the power to re-evaluate the coach. Davis signed a two-year contract after Doc Rivers' firing in November, but that second year could prove to be little more than $1.5 million in thank-you money for guiding the Magic through this tumult.

Davis did his best to get a guarantee. He did some verbal arm-twisting that November night in Utah and turned an interim offer into a two-year deal.

Davis told Weisbrod to give him two years or look for another coach. It was a swell negotiation.

"I wanted an honest chance, not a token chance," Davis said.

He has it, sort of. He also once had a three-year contract in Philly. He lasted one season. His first head coaching gig was a terrible situation, the worst, a result of the widespread inexperience of the rookie coach, rookie star (Allen Iverson), rookie general manager (Brad Greenberg) and rookie team president (Pat Croce).

Now he leads this cap-strapped, last-place team that relies too heavily on one player, needs a medical miracle for Grant Hill and appears a few bad moves from prolonged misery.

And here's Davis, the swell guy, being positive, calling Monday's loss a "moral victory" for his 9-29 team.

Such a vanilla approach won't inspire much fan confidence.

But that is Davis' style.

It's swell and all, but can swell work?

We can't answer that now. Unfortunately, we never may get the chance to, either.